


THE WEIGHT OF REMEMBERING

by bouncingclowns



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falliam Day 2019, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, falliam, falliamfrenzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncingclowns/pseuds/bouncingclowns
Summary: Prompt written for the Falliam Frenzy Week 1 — “please stay” on TumblrCW: mentions/depictions of (mild) PTSD, also SPOILERS from the most recent episode, as this is supposed to come in canon after it’s ending.
Relationships: Fallon Carrington & Liam Ridley, Fallon Carrington/Liam Ridley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	THE WEIGHT OF REMEMBERING

**Author's Note:**

> this is a short little angsty thing I wrote and I'm pretty in love with it honestly! Hope you enjoy (:

She had never seen him angry before. Annoyed? Sure. Disappointed? Whenever she took one of her vendettas a little too far (which … was more often than she’d ever admit out loud). But not angry. _Never_ angry. Liam pushed Adam like he was trying to kill him with a simple shove — like the weight of his world depended on it, and Fallon realized that to some degree, it probably did. He remembered — remembered more than her, than the life they had started creating together before it was taken away from them. He remembered the accident that wasn’t really an accident, the accident that _Adam_ had …

“Oh my god.” Fallon murmured, her chest tightening like it was about to break in two.

He was going to kill her brother if she didn’t stop them — push him into the still blazing vineyard below. Fallon lunged, pulling her husband - turned fiancé - turned boyfriend off of him, not because she cared what happened to Adam (truth be told, there was a part of her that wanted to just … let this play out), but because she couldn’t _bare_ to lose him again. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being placed under arrest and taken away from her, or getting injured and forgetting again, or the slim chance that Adam would overpower him and that he would …

“Liam … _Liam!_ ” She shrieked over the ringing in her ears.

He wasn’t just angry — he was fucking furious, his entire body vibrating with the intensity of his memory returning all at once. Liam glowered at the gaunt man she was forced to call her brother, his hands clenched into fists, his jawline tense.

“It was him, Fallon.” He snarled. “He hit me over the head with that flowerpot. I … I could have _died_. I could have …!”

She felt his intent to attack again before he was able to initiate the action, placing herself firmly between the two men. Adam stayed cornered between Liam and the charcoaled vineyard below, dabbing a trickle of blood coming from his nose which was surely broken now.

“Liam.” Fallon tried again, placing either hand on his shoulders, eyes wide and silently pleading.

He looked at her like she was a stranger, and it brought back the remembrance of when he really _couldn’t_ remember her. Tears prickled in the corners of her deep blue eyes, and Liam …

Liam broke, and would have plummeted to his knees were she not to catch him. She brought them down together, pressing him firmly into her shoulder and holding him, and listening to him cry, and maybe even shedding a tear herself. They didn’t speak — hardly moved save for his shuddered breaths and her entire form trembling with some amalgam of anxiety and pure, unadulterated despair. _She_ didn’t cry, though. Fallon had trained herself long ago to compartmentalize what she now categorized as undesirable emotional baggage.

She wished she hadn’t.

At some point during the commotion, she saw Adam sprint out the barn and into the shadows, but she didn’t care — not right now, anyway. All that mattered was him — _Liam_. His hands came to clench the back of her coat just below her shoulder blades. Were it any other moment, she would have shaken him off, warning him of its delicacy and expense. That thought process was thrown to the wayside as she continued to cradle him, replaced by a slew of “it’s okay”’s, and “I’m here”’s, and “I’m so sorry”’s.

“It was him.” Liam murmured again. “It was _him_.” Over, and over, and over, and …

Fallon felt the fire’s heat before she smelled it. She craned her neck to see the blaze beginning to overtake the wooden barn, and without being fully cognizant of what she was doing, she sprung into action.

“We have to go.” She ordered, pulling Liam off the ground and shoving him towards the far door. “ _Now._ ”

Liam wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead, hiccuping like a child, but complied. With Fallon supporting practically his full weight against her shoulder, they barely escaped before the infrastructure collapsed under the weight of the flames — crackling morosely. Some morbid part of her couldn’t help but consider it a metaphor for the trajectory of her life. That thought was taken over by the flashback of what had happened just over a year prior. It played behind her eyes like a projector — paralyzing her as she watched it happen in front of her once more — the stable house went up in flames, almost taking her with it, and succeeding in charring her already dead step-mother..

“Cristal.” She hissed in a bout of confusion, taking a step towards the barn, only to feel strong arms around her waist, and to hear her name from somewhere beyond the fog of her traumatized mind.

“Fallon …? _Fallon!_ ” Over, and over, and _Jesus_ if either of them had to say the other’s name one more time, Liam thought he might implode.

Fallon shook her head, lightly tossing her loose curls from side to side. Her balance swayed as she met Liam’s concerned stare. “I…”

“You’re ok” He mumbled into her hair, recognizing it as _his_ turn to take care of her, as he waited (hell, practically _expected_ ) for her to break down.

All Fallon could do was feel guilty — so _fucking_ guilty, as she once more managed to make it all about her. She shook him off of her, tensing her shoulders and putting up her bravest front, before stalking off towards the car and letting herself into the driver’s side. Liam came to sit next to her, his eyes still puffy, and now streaked with concern and a little confusion. She couldn’t hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds before she turned her blue eyes towards the ignition and focused on the hum of the Porsche’s engine.

“I can drive if you want.” Liam half offered, half whined, but it only made her push the throttle into drive and barrel off down the road faster than even she had intended.

They drove in relative silence, Liam marveling at the extent of his memories returning. He thought about his childhood, his mother, the first time him and Fallon had ever …

Fallon, on the other hand, tried her best to keep her mind blank for fear of Cristal polluting her mind’s eye. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles went white, and she found some semblance of solace in the way it made her palms tingle. Liam had always known her to be a … how could he put it kindly … _a fucking batshit crazy driver_ … but this?

This was different.

The speedometer hit 100 before they had travelled more than a couple seconds from the rubble, and it only continued to go up from there. Liam tried to mask a the sigh of relief he expelled when he realized that they weren’t actually leaving Carrington property — just going from one portion of it to another, and so the speed that _Fallon Carrington_ was traveling didn’t actually matter. The relief didn’t last long, though, because despite the legality of her speed no longer being a factor, it didn’t change the fact that their lives still hung in the balance.

The road to the main entrance of Carrington Manor stretched before them like a goddamn funeral procession — perfectly manicured trees lining either side of it for as far as the eye could see. When they finally pulled into the circular driveway, two maids opened their car doors, both asking what had happened, and if they had seen Adam. The couple shared a fickle look, Liam deferring to his girlfriend’s judgment on how to handle the matter. In true Fallon fashion, she ignored the help, breezing past them and heading directly for the stairs in the main hallway, not without adding a promise that there would be hell to pay if she was followed.

Liam stopped short, and it’s like she could feel his pause, because she looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes, and calling “not _you,_ Liam”.

She wasted no time in shedding herself of her matching green Gucci coat and dress, crumpling into a heap on the foot fo her bed in a bout of exhaustion … and nothing but her bra and underwear. Liam stood precariously in the doorframe of her room, watching the scene unfold in front of him. He had seen her naked close to, if not a million times (as he had only recently come to remember). There was something decidedly unsettling about her not stripping completely, because it meant that this wasn’t an act of sexuality or seduction, which meant that it was … _Oh shit._ Vulnerability was rare in the heiress, and save for the times that he had hurt her, or rather, when his memory had betrayed him, it wasn’t something she allowed anyone to see — _especially_ him. Fallon grit her teeth, feeling his eyes practically burning holes into the profile of her face. Burning …

_The stable house. Cristal’s body going up in flames. Smoke filling her lungs. Her father’s arms around her waist, carrying her out and —_

“Hey.” Liam’s tenor snapped her out of her thoughts. She didn’t know when he had come to sit next to her, but there he was, tenderly brushing a few misplaced pieces of hair off her forehead. “You ok?”

“Are _you_?” She countered, raising an eyebrow pointedly, almost harshly.

Liam smiled, his silver eyes glinting in the early evening light. “I remember.”

_So do I._ She thought bitterly, but held her tongue before the words could topple from her lips. His remembering should be positive, but truth be told, the admission hit them both like a pile of bricks. Fallon studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. She sat up, kissing his cheek, then resting her head on his shoulder. Liam placed a hand on her bare thigh in return, stroking his thumb back and forth, and reveling in the smoothness of her skin. Her hair, usually sweet with the scent of lilac and primrose, was masked by the scent of charred wood, rubble, and sweat. It didn’t take him long to recognize that he probably smelled of it too.

“I am so sorry, Liam.” The waver in her voice caught him off-guard. “I am … I am so _so_ sorry.”

He shook his head, moving his hand from her thigh to cup her cheek and lift her gaze towards his. “Hey.” He murmured steadily.

Fallon didn’t expect the smile that spread across his features, but there it was — gentle, and precarious, but still present. It crinkled the corners of his eyes, and made his dimples protrude, and her heart fluttered in return.

“I’m here.” Liam promised. “We’re both here.”

They would stay like that for longer than either of them realized, holding each other’s gaze like the world might crumble if they looked away, and if he was being honest, Liam wasn’t totally certain it still wouldn’t. He _was_ there, and he _did_ remember, but a twinge of anxiety gurgled at the base of his stomach, because _for how long_? He wouldn’t say any of this to her — he knew better than to scare her like that. It was in part because he loved her too much to place that burden on her, but mostly because he had seen what the fear of him forgetting again had done to her, and he’d rather not have a repeat. He smiled, remembering the way her mouth popped into an “oh” shape as she stepped on the hunting rifle and it sounded with a loud _bang_. Fallon’s brow furrowed.

“What?” She puzzled, her curiosity quickly giving way to concern.

Liam shook his head before kissing her forehead delicately. “You.” He breathed, rubbing a smudge of soot from just above her left eyebrow. “Just … you.”

Warmth spread through Fallon’s frame, providing her relief from the low ache her joints had grown used to over what had otherwise been an impeccably stressful day — even by Carrington standards. She tried not to let it be fleeting, tried to suppress the thought that she needed to find Adam.

Find him, and then fucking _murder_ him for everything that he had put them through — that he had put _Liam_ through. 

He didn’t know when she fell asleep. One moment he was stroking her hair, tangling and untangling his fingers in the curls at the base of her skull. The next she was snoring softly (something that he had never heard her do before … at least that he could remember … he decidedly liked it), her weight going limp against his torso. Liam tilted his chin to get a better vantage of the woman in his arms. She looked so … peaceful. _God_ he didn’t know if he had ever seen someone look so peaceful. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyelashes fluttering delicately, her hands pressed between both their chests and grasping the cashmere of his sweater.

Liam smiled again, unable to help the butterflies in his stomach, because he _remembered_ — remembered watching movies in the Carrington’s personal movie theatre for hours on end, and the way the light of the car windows dappled her pale cheeks while they drove through downtown Atlanta. He remembered the way she pursed her lips when she was angry, and tilted her chin when she proved her business savvy, and the way she bit the inside of her cheek when she was trying desperately to stifle her laugh — which she hated, but he absolutely adored. He remembered forcing her to attempt a ropes course with him one time, only for her to immediately vow that she would never _ever_ do it again ( _“This is for middle schoolers,” She had whined before adding with a flirtatious, teasing smirk, “and man children, I guess.”_ )

He remembered the first time he told her he loved her — the mixture of fear and adrenaline it surged through her eyes. He remembered the first time he slept over, and when she asked him to marry her on the Lake Carrington.

He remembered the spike of pain as the flowerpot shattered against the base of his skull. He remembered his vision going white, then purple, then black. He remembered forgetting, and that scared him most of all, because …

_Fuck_. If he could remember forgetting, was was keeping it from happening again?

He felt her shift in his arms, letting out a muffled sigh. Liam laid back, taking extra precaution not to jostle her into consciousness. He loved the way she felt against him — loved the way she brought her leg over his and she burrowed into the side of his body, and the way her breath leveled when he pulled her closer. Liam studied the woman, bringing a finger to trace across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, her lips, her chin, all the way down her neck and to the dip of her collarbones, but not daring to go any further. He wouldn’t forget her again. He didn’t know if he could survive it, and he sure as hell knew she wouldn’t. Liam shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers like it was the only thing keeping his head from falling off and rolling across the linoleum floor.

“Please.” He whispered, pleading to his own subconscious in a way that would have previously mad him feel utterly insane, but now was the only thing keeping him from coming undone at the seems.

“Please stay.”


End file.
